Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [41]
Drawing three ornate daggers, remnants of the d'Or family, Chev juggled them as he walked through the gates in a display of showmanship. The guards didn't seem impressed, as they probably saw this kind of talent on a regular basis. Nevertheless, Chev continued to juggle as he walked down the street.
The flashing blades relaxed him and the amount of concentration needed soothed his mind as he went over his plan in detail. It would be, in his entire history of fighting, the single most dangerous and long term task ever. The question was where to start?
He passed a street musician, a fiddler who was quickly drawing a crowd with her music. She was dressed in a simple shirt and flowing skirt and her hair was held back by a bandanna. "A bard," he pondered aloud and sheathed the daggers in his belt. He elbowed his way through the crowd and stopped in front of her wide brimmed hat that lay on the ground.
The glint of a platinum coin caught the bard's eye as the warrior tossed it in the hat and her violin screeched as she stopped to regard the warrior. "You must be pretty rich to be tossing around coins like that," she stated.
"I pay even better for words that please my ears," Chev responded cryptically, knowing he had caught her undivided attention.
The small crowd of gawkers got the hint and filtered away into the hordes of people. Chev watched them go and then turned his eyes back to the bard who was dumping the coins into a pouch tied to her slim waist.
She had the awkward grace of a half-elf and her tight fitting kilt and fluffy white linen blouse displayed a figure that was simply delectable. "Perhaps my knowledge of lore can help you then if you'd like to buy me a drink or two with that pouch of platinum." She strayed dangerously close to the warrior and his money pouch.
Chev placed a hand over the pouch and she smiled broadly. "If you can't take a tease good warrior, I'm afraid you have me at the disadvantage. Your name, if you please?" she asked, with an appraising look up and down the handsome warrior.
"Chev."
"Just Chev?"
"Just Chev."
"Very well Just Chev," she smiled and took his arm in hers. "If thats your real name," she said with mock suspicion. "My name is not to be given away lightly, but I shall share it with you. I am Valeska Ko'Ragur and I go by many other names, but none more infamous."
"Never heard of it."
She gave him a look as if she was going to pout or cry but shrugged instead. "Just as well then. I prefer it that way," she said, opening the door to a cozy looking inn. "After you."
Entering the inn, which was indeed cozy, warm and smelling of soft spices, Chev concluded that he had chanced upon no ordinary bard. She had an extraordinary gift for being likeable, unlike that farmer, whose gift had always unnerved the warrior. As she led him to a booth, he concluded that she was a natural leader and accustomed to doing so.
An elderly woman with short curls came forward, drying her hands with an apron. "What will ye have my dears?"
Chev looked about for a menu but saw none. "What's on the menu?"
"Practically ev'rything for a starving traveller," the woman winked at Chev.
Snorting, Chev said "Okay. How about soup, some bread and anything else you can think of." He set down a platinum coin, the only type he kept in his purse.
"Well, gods bless my fat cheeks!" she exclaimed and snatched up the coin. "Ye'll be getting a meal fit for royalty!" She nudged Valeska on the arm. "Except ours tastes better!" Cackling, the old woman walked away.
"Interesting woman," Chev commented.
"I've met a lot of interesting people in my time human," Valeska replied. "They say that you can judge someone better by the number of miles they've walked in other people's shoes better than their own shoes. With many names under my heel, I've walked more than my share."
Chev